Darkness To Light
by A.tmosphere 03
Summary: Back in Darrel’s bedroom, a crumpled up, official-looking paper laid on the nightstand; its envelope laying a foot or so away on the floor. That note was terror. That note was fear. That note would change everything.


**Welcome to my new creation! I hope you like it! :D. Anyways, read on. Enjoy.**

**One more thing…**

**This story would've not been possible without the lovely Midnight Nights. This chapter is dedicated to her :-). Midnight made me write – actually, I probably would have gave up if she hadn't have made me! :D.**

**I do not own… S.E. Hinton does. **The house was eerie; a sudden silence had fallen over it. How odd it seemed. Quiet was not a thing they were used to – any of them. But at a time such as this, silence was the best thing.

* * *

Back in Darrel's bedroom, a crumpled up, official-looking paper laid on the nightstand; its envelope laying a foot or so away on the floor. That note was terror. That note was fear. That note would change everything.

Although, it did not begin with the letter, instead it started off with a Shepard, a Soc and a newspaper.

**Chapter 1: A Shepard, A Soc and A Newspaper**

Gossip catches like wildfire in Tulsa, especially on the greaser side. But some things manage to wiggle through the paths of secrecy and privacy before the eager, news-feeders catch wind of it and the match is inflamed. This was one of those things, and I never thought I would be holding this secret. This secret so life changing, so Tulsa changing––it wasn't like your unimportant junk that usually goes around.

It all started on a Monday afternoon. It was one of those odd days when I was home before Pony and Soda. But it wasn't like I didn't mind ––peace and quiet was nice sometimes. I got to come home, put dinner in the oven and settle down in my chair with the newspaper.

Well, at least I tried to do those things.

I made dinner, grabbed the paper, and headed to my recliner to read it. I settled down in my chair and flipped through the different sections until I found the sport pages.

The sports part of the newspaper was my favorite. Even though my football days were over, and I only played for fun, I still followed my favorite college and pro teams in the headlines. Rarely did I ever have the time to watch a game since I worked the hours that I did, so the paper was the next best thing.

Just as I started to read about Quarterbacks and Tight Ends, the door swung open to reveal Tim Shepard. It closed with a slam and he strutted over in his usual manner to the couch. He looked at me as he sunk down into the cushions and picked up the front page of the paper.

"Hey, what's up?"

He sighed and dropped the paper down into his lap, "the war."

"Yeah man, it sucks." I knew the war was hurting and destroying every city around the U.S., but Tulsa seemed to be hit hard––or maybe it was just me. Tim had lost a boy or two to the war, and most of the other gangs had too. It wasn't uncommon to hear ––through the line of gossip, of course––that a few boys from this area had been drafted.

"I got drafted," he motioned to the headline on the front page _VIETNAM WAR RAGES ON––DRAFT CONTINES_.

"Oh," I choked, not expecting that.

"Yep, I leave in two weeks."

"What does Curly think?"

"Curly doesn't know."

"You didn't tell him?"

"I haven't told anyone," he fidgeted and ran a hand through his hair. "Just you."

I paused in awe, in question , and most of all, fear. Awe of his cool, calmness; but if you knew Tim, it wasn't weird––he was always cool and calm. And I guess that even applied in the worst of his days. In question of his decision to tell me before Curly, since Curly _was_ the closest person to him. And the faint, nagging fear of the pact between us, them and Brumly, disappearing in account of Tim's absence.

"Why didn't you tell Curly?"

He shrugged, "you know how it is. You'd want to tell your brothers eventually, but not the day your letter came. Oh, I'll tell them before word gets out––God only knows how much I _don't_ want them to hear this through gossip." Tim looked to the door, and back at me, "nobody's here but you, right?"

"Just me."

"Good, 'cause nobody needs to hear this. Not a soul."

"Your secret's good as gold."

"Tuff, man," he nodded. "I should go. Got things to do."

"Yeah, you sure do…." I said, "what're you doing about the gang?"

"That," he sighed, "is still unknown."

"Well, good luck. Call if you need anything––or stop by."

"Sure," he said. "I'll keep that in mind."

Before I realized he had left, the door was slammed shut, and his car was peeling out of our driveway and down the road. The room fell silent once again. So quiet that I could hear the constant drip of the facet, the steady ticking of the clock, and the familiar melody made by the humming of the various kitchen appliances.

I gave a great deal of thought to the conversation I just had with Tim Shepard. For one, Tulsa definitely had a change coming––and I didn't know how ready the greaser population was to loose Tim. I honestly didn't know how ready _we_ were to loose him. Tim did so much for us, and kept things running smooth when we needed it most. But my biggest question at them moment was who was going to take over his gang.

In thought, Curly had every right to take over. He had been brought up and forced into a fierce gang. His street skills were great and improving as the days went on. But Curly didn't have a lick of sense in him. He was a hood who would end up in jail for murder or theft or something like that.

Sure, he was reasonably educated. Tim made him buckle down and finish school, but that was an unspoken requirement of him. Tim did the same, even if it took him an extra year to graduate.

But knowing Tim, he'd probably give it to his right-hand-man.

Before I could wonder anymore, the door squeaked open, and Pony tried to sneak in without me seeing him. He failed, of course, but dashed like a deer being chased by wild dog once I caught sight of him. I only got a quick glance at his face, but even at a glance, I knew he had been in a fight.

_They should be leaving him alone, by now_, I thought as I shot out of my armchair and down the hall to the bathroom. The door swung shut and clicked, and I knew I was too late to catch him.

**D-2-L**

Tim Shepard followed my steps down the hall and to the bathroom, I wondered why he was here, but did not have the time to ask. When I made it to the door, all I could hear was the run of water on the other side. I tried the handle - even though I knew he had locked it – then knocked on the door. He didn't answer, even after asking him.

"Come on, Pone. I need to see." Still no answer, it was like talking to air.

"I'm giving you 'til the count of ten…" I heard the water switch off, and knew I was getting somewhere.

"What do you need to see, anyway?" I heard from the other side.

"Come on, I'm not stupid. I saw your face."

"It's really not that bad…"

"I'm not saying it is… but I have to see to believe." Tim stood quietly to my right, leaned up against the door frame.

The door clicked, and the knob turned. The door let out a soft moan as it opened. He stood in front of me, his left eye swollen, his lower lip puffy, and his face cut up a good deal. His arms seemed to be fine, a few scratches – but fine.

"What happened?" He stood still and quiet, letting his eyes fall down to the floor. "Pony, please… tell me."

For the first time since we had been standing there, Tim spoke with an ease and caution that I had never heard him use before. Pony trailed his eyes over to Tim as he spoke, grateful that he didn't have to speak, I guess.

"I was driving," Tim began. "When I seen five Socs had him pinned, one beatin' on him. Only one had a blade, and that was the one who had the kid." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, red-handled blade, "they saw me coming, and three of them ran. They knew who I was, apparently."

"Bunch of amateur Socs?"

"Yeah, had to be. I mean, they didn't even have a car. And most Socs stand there ground, even if they know who I am. But anyways, the one that had Pony had stopped by now, and was going to play tough guy.

"He threw the kid aside and tells his only remaining buddy to back him. I laugh. His buddy tells him who I am, and tries to get him to go while they can. I tell Pony to get in my car, and this Soc has the nerve to punch me. To fuckin' _punch_ me.

"The buddy whispered somethin' and ran off. I beat the tar outta that guy."

I sighed, "what brought it on?" Tim shut his mouth and looked back at my youngest brother. Pony looked at me, knowing he had to speak.

"I, I don't know. They just… popped up. I didn't recognize them either… it was weird." I nodded.

"Well, I oughta get going… it looks like you got some fixin' up to take care of," Tim turned and headed toward the front door.

"Yeah, I guess I probably do. Keep your ears open, see if you hear names."

"Sure will. Catcha later Curtis, Pony."

"Thanks again Tim," he gave a small wave and was gone.

**D-2-L**

"Oh Sodapop! Oh Sody-dearest, my sweetest Sody-pop!" Two-Bit ran through the DX, shrieking like a love-struck broad. I laughed, so did Soda.

"Mister Curtis, will you spare and evening for your love?"

"Love my ass," Soda said and pushed Two-Bit away as he made kissy-faces.

"Please! One date for the prettiest gal in town?"

"Two-Bit, you're the ugly broad the world has ever seen."

"Shut your trap, Randle. You're not in this. You can have a date with me _next_ week."

"Oh yeah," I said. "Like _that_ will happen."

Soda laughed and walked outside to serve the next customer. I sighed and went back to stocking shelves. Today was a horribly _slow_ day. No cars to fix; only a handful had come in for gas. The DX was as vacant as a strip joint during a Sunday service… or something to that affect.

Closing time was still hours away ––according to the clock hanging haphazardly on the grimy beige wall––and I could feel my eyes closing. Without anything to do, I was bored as a kid on a rainy day.

"Hey Stevie-o, I'm gonna go… ha, that ryhmes!"

I shook my head, "you're a weird one, Two-Bit. See ya around."

"Geesh," Two-Bit paused in front of half-opened door. "You act like you'll never see me again! See you _later_ not _around_."

"Just go, please. Unlike you, I work for my food."

"Sure you do…" He cracked a smile and walked out, heading out to the pumps where Soda stood.

I finished stocking shelves and returned to the counter. As far as I could tell, Soda was still at the pumps talking to Two-Bit, and filling up a few cars that had recently came in. Since I had sat down on the tall stool behind the counter, I could see four or five cars had come.

But I didn't see the Socs. However, I wished I would have. Maybe I'd been ready. Maybe I wouldn't have, but who knows? That day could've turned out different… better different. Only if I'd paid more attention; only if would have known better.

**D-2-L**

His hands shook on the wheel. He had postponed this too long. This had been something that he'd told himself for the last few days. Hell, he had known he should have told Curly the moment that he got that letter. But he didn't, he told Darrel Curtis, and Darry had seemed… seemed shocked? A bit, but more, more… disappointed.

That's right, Darrel had seemed disappointed.

Disappointed in _what_? In him? Tim Shepard doesn't have to impress anybody… he doesn't _want_ to impress anybody. He doesn't care if people are disappointed because he wasn't… he wasn't, what? That "what" was driving him crazy.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter and shook his head. This wasn't happening to him. He didn't care if he was drafted. Being drafted would be kind of cool. Serve in the army, fight a war, and kill some people… that's the way Tim wanted himself to think, anyways. You see, Tim knew what this"what" was. He knew it very well, actually; so well that he didn't want to admit it.

_Would he ever?_

Eventually, he thought. But for right know he couldn't. Admitting it would come in time, but right now he had plans to make, things to do, and time to stop.

Right now, he had to make sure everybody would remember him. After all, if a war was to take him away, it would not take him down quietly.

**D-T-L **

**Happy Thanksgiving, all! Read and Review.**


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